written by Alan J. Lerner • photographed by Alfred Gilks (ballet photographed by John Alton) • designed by Preston Ames, Cedric Gibbons • music by George Gershwin, Conrad Salinger • costumes by Orry-Kelly

The Story: Wealthy, debonair Henri (Guetary) loves pretty young Lise (Caron), a girl he cared for during the war. Lonely heiress Milo (Fochs) loves cheerful yet skeptical artist Jerry (Kelly). Unfortunately Lise and Jerry love one another and as they dance their way into each others’ hearts against a romantic Parisian backdrop, they must struggle between the pull of money and loyalty on the one hand, and true love on the other.

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First of all, this isn’t just an American in Paris, it’s an American Paris – not a City of Lights that is or ever was, but rather a Paris dreamed of across miles and miles of sea and continent, far away in Hollywood. That’s an important point. This Paris is full of authentic touches (productions of the time attempted to reproduce specific areas on soundstages) and cultural references, but it’s also purposefully artificial. Likewise, Jerry is more an idea of a painter than an actual painter – we only glimpse his canvases, and his patter consists of the cliches of bohemian artist life (though Kelly’s a rather clean-cut bohemian) rather than technical insight or the passion of vision. For those who don’t like musicals because of their gap from reality, this is not the musical to win you over. But for those who love bravura dancing, full of machine-gun-fire taps and the gracefully propulsive gestures and flexes Kelly specialized in, or intensely creative choreography and stage direction, replete with artfully tangling and untangling bodies and sensuous, eye-popping colors, An American in Paris is right up your avenue. And yet it isn’t all make-believe.

There’s an added treat to the musical flourishes, a treat that brings the film down to earth somewhat, even as it tiptoes on the clouds: Leslie Caron. In her film debut she plays a winsome slip of a girl, at times standoffish, at others unguarded, sometimes fickle, at others so committed it hurts, at once innocent and wise, a 19-year-old with life experience on her back yet the the freshness of a youthful perspective in her eyes. It’s a guileless performance, and no wonder: Caron was herself 19, and had survived brutal war experiences (like the character in the film) that left her suffering from malnutrition, and only able to work on the production on alternating days. Her character stands for a whole generation of war kids, still childish in certain ways yet sadly wise beyond their years and it adds an extra poignance to her romantic scenes with Kelly: she’s young enough to gaze at him with starry eyes, smart enough to know she shouldn’t.

Indeed, the war hovers over the film in an interesting way. This a bright, chipper movie, full of fantasy and romance and fun – the heartache and melodrama near the end circulates around personal romance and any notion of world crisis is far off. Yet World War II is namedropped numerous times and plays an important role for the female characters particularly. Milo’s first husband left her for another woman he met while stationed across the country (leaving her nervous, desperate, and overbearing with men, as if she can’t quite trust them to stick around of their own accord). Lise is engaged to the man who protected her during the war, and it is this more than any sense of security or fear that makes her cling to him – he thinks she loves him, but really she’s just thankful. The war brought an element of uncertainty and instability to the lives of these women and it complicates their romantic outlook, and with it, their relationship to the men in the story. And of course Jerry, the American in Paris himself, wouldn’t even be in the city if he weren’t an ex-G.I. All in all, this is very postwar movie.

If An American in Paris reflects a world touched by war, it also looks back nostalgically on the prewar world – its soundtrack is composed by a man who died back in the late thirties (George Gershwin), its characterizations seem drawn more from the Lost Generation layabouts than Fifties busybodies, and its most memorable number, the 20-minute “American in Paris” ballet (controversially altered by uncredited co-composer Salinger, but largely Gershwin’s creation) recreates an entire era of late-19th, early-2oth century Parisian art. Some of the homages are easy to spot (the Rousseau looks playfully Rousseauean even before you see the giveaway lion), others might be more difficult, but ultimately, whichever Impressionist or post-Impressionist canvas is being artfully imitated, it’s the overall spirit that comes through. It’s a spirit of nostalgia, but also a kind of intellectually curious, aesthetically ambitious attitude – a set of cultural aspirations that would have been foreign to most Hollywood musicals 20 years earlier (hence the film earned charges of “pretension” from some quarters – it was seen as highbrow, or middlebrow seeking to be highbrow).

In truth, whatever its potential pretentiousness, the closing sequence, superbly stylized into a state of heightened unreality, is the most powerful and alive in the film. Though Gershwin (with touches from Salinger) was the composer and Kelly the choreographer – and the brilliant art direction and cinematography also deserves credit – one can’t overlook Vincente Minnelli’s contribution. An American in Paris shares with much of his fifties and sixties work a penchant for exploding in unforeseen directions in its final moment, achieving a kind of formal transcendence that the rest of the picture, good as it may be, doesn’t quite prepare us for. Think the propulsive, violent conclusion to Some Came Running (in which a film set in the forties seems to leap past a decade and become a slice of borderline sixties psychedelia). Or those bold sequences in Running (the exposure dimming when Sinatra kisses the schoolteacher), and also The Bad and the Beautiful (Lana Turner driving on a suicide run through backprojected hysteria) or Two Weeks in Another Town (Douglas racing up the winding stairway in a fury) where suddenly the film’s formal elements take over and directly express the characters’ emotional states; temporarily the narrative becomes avant-garde.

There’s a gorgeous, darkly-silhouetted fountain dance (see above) which fits this bill, but much of the ballet also has a lighter touch that would be absent from the moodier later works. The film as a whole contains this balance between frog-in-the-throat atmospheric romance (the legendary dance along the Seine, when Caron’s defenses crumble) and cheery-as-can-be joie-de-vivre in Kelly’s solo numbers (“S’Wonderful,” the delightful “I Got Rhythm”). I call them “solo” even though he’s partnered with others in some of them – his “partners” tend to sing along but limit their footwork to walking, knowing they could never compete with his acrobatic lower body. There’s an exception, though (besides Caron) – two older women (one rather stout) join the young man in an early number, “By Strauss ” – and man, can they move! If I could find a clip, I’d post it; they demonstrate that you don’t have to be built like Kelly to keep up with him.

Ultimately, An American in Paris stands at a kind of crossroads for the American musical; while Kelly’s follow-up Singin’ in the Rain would be his masterpiece and perhaps the greatest musical ever made, it in some ways stands outside from the form as an exception rather than a summit. An American in Paris, on the other hand, draws on traditions of the past – the songwriters of the 20s & 30s, the lighthearted patter and trivial story, the gleeful artificiality of the world onscreen, perhaps most of all the originality of the material (not based on any hit Broadway production) – and fuses them with elements that were newer, and on their way to taking over the genre – a seriousness in artistic ambition, with a desire to seem international and sophisticated (fake as this Paris is, it’s more connected to reality than the Euro-fantasias of the Astaire-Rogers films). It was also the first musical to win Best Picture after six hardbitten postwar works in a row (and against competition like A Place in the Sun and A Streetcar Named Desire).

An American in Paris was far from the last musical to nab this trophy, but it was significant in one sense – it was the last time an original production, not an adaptation, got the top award. From here on, the industry would look elsewhere for musical inspiration. I tend to think something was lost, but whatever one thinks of the later musical era, it isn’t hard to appreciate the flashes of inspiration in An American in Paris, and to feel the energy of an idea and a feeling being discovered before our eyes. One might almost say it’s s’w… no, I won’t go there.

In closing, a lyric might be appropriate but really it’s not Ira’s words one remembers when recalling An American in Paris, nor truth be told, first and foremost anyway, George’s marvellous music. It’s the staccato sound of Kelly’s taps and the image of his torso hurtling through space, arms spread wide like a propeller, legs kicking with passionate precision. That closing ballet may be the signature moment, but it’s another, simpler, yet completely joyful sequence I want to highlight. Who could ask for anything more?

How An American in Paris made the ‘Elite 70’:

Allan Fish’s No. 8 choice

Judy Geater’s No. 11 choice

Greg Ferrara’s No. 15 choice

Dennis Polifroni’s No. 18 choice

Pat Perry’s No. 21 choice

Sam Juliano’s No. 36 choice

Marilyn Ferdinand’s No. 72 choice

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65 Responses

I love it that so many read into this film only to fall flat on there face and its nice to see JOEL come in here and navigate this film to it’s proper perspective. All in all, the film is just another perfect example of taking entertainment (MGM style) to the highest level. Sure, we can “ewwwww” and “ahhhhh” over the sub-plot about Lise’s experiences during the war and thing that “this means that” and that means this” but its no more important than a device to bring you closer to the characters and to bring you to Paris in the first place to show off the amazing sets and understand why Gershwins AMERICAN IN PARIS is used at all.

This is the kind of film that MGM does sleeping standing up and it’s a monument to the kind of orchestrated geniuses that pull together and home in on their skills and talents for one production. It a musical taken to the Nth degree and utilizes every weapon in the MGM arsenal (from cinematographers, to costume designers to production and art creators). Sure, dramatically, the film holds no water and really should be labeled “melodrama” set to music… But, would you really want it any other way?

This is the kind of big, delicious and tempting movie-making that seduces the first time to come back for more and explore the other genres. It’s meant to ravish the eye and soften the heart. Kelly is at top form here (another example as to why he should be considered the greatest musical star in the history of the genre) and it’s just a primer for what would come the following year in SINGIN IN THE RAIN the best musical of them all.

Caron, who I have never cared for in just baout anything, is delightfully innocent and all knowing at the same time and she’s a perfect partner for Kelly’s kind of learning aloofness that changes ever so slowly through the course of the film.

JOEL-you pretty much hit the nail on the head with this fine essay.

NOTE-I recently resaw this film at home. For those with the itch to see it again I highly recommend buying or renting it on BLU-RAY. The crispness of the picture, the bold representations of the colors and the newly remastered sound in DTS surround truly presents an AMERICAN IN PARIS in a way that Kelly and Minelli would have only busted to have their audiences see it back then. This is a great film made even better by the newest technology…

Dennis you mention Melodrama, and I think for Musicals, this is par for the course. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, in Musicals, if you don’t like melodrama, sugary plots, fantasy, or over-the-topness, then you just simply don’t like Musicals as a general rule. You’re right, though, this is the type of Musical that MGM just made so effortlessly. This Bluray you speak of sounds delicious!

Ha, well I’m not sure I put it in the proper perspective (I think given the amount of space I devoted to the war context I probably came closer to “reading into it” after all) but appreciate your praise.

Out of curiosity, what is your take on the big Broadway adaptations vs. the earlier more movie-movie stuff? I tend to prefer the latter, as this essay indicates but do you have a preference or do you feel the same affection for both?

Hi! Joel…
One Of my favorite film(s)…Unfortunately, I have only watched “An American in Paris” twice…Therefore, I must revisit this film soon…I now must go and search for images for the 1951 film “An American in Paris…”
lol[Note…
We can’t forget that Film noir man John Alton who painted with light.

“Alton’s sole Academy Award came for his work on the climactic final ballet of An American in Paris, set to Gershwin’s tone poem. Whatever the pretensions of the ballet itself, there is no gainsaying the virtuosity of Alton’s lighting and camerawork…”]

Joel – Marvelous review with all sorts of new information to me. I tend to look at the sexism of the film, which is very off-putting, though one could say that Milo is the sexist for touting the obviously bad art Kelly’s character was making so she could sign him up as a boyfriend. I may have to reassess: (Oh, and I am literally an American in Paris as I type this before my visit to the Eiffel Tower.)

Haha Marilyn! Enjoy your trip! Hmm, I think like in many films from the time, including many musicals that we’ve discussed this week in fact, have forms of sexism, not just this one. Is that why you voted it so low?

Very well written. Lots of things I didn’t know, though I hadn’t even heard of The Music Man so I’m no expert on Musicals.

The climactic – well, it’s not really climactic it’s just near the end – ballet scene, for me, is a waste of time. It doesn’t further the story, only restates the main character’s feelings. It makes the final switcharound too obvious, in fact, as it is clearly building to something otherwise the film would have already ended. There isn’t enough actual time between loss and reunion too. Perhaps the ballet scene tries to extend that time artificially. Or maybe it’s just there to give us some dancing…

Taken on its own the scene is OK enough, though it is all very cardboardy. The film is quite good and does pull you along.

Another tremendous essay from you on a film I truly love and I think this placement is in the ballpark on the countdown. You bring up the context that WWII provides and this is something that I don’t know I’ve given much thought to before, but your argument makes sense and it will be an angle I will watch for the next time I watch it. Also, as you mentioned Leslie Caron is quite magnificent here and I concur with everything you said about her. She’s just enchanting in every way.

Now, I think, is probably the proper time to discuss something that has been on my mind this whole countdown. That is Powell and Pressburger’s The Red Shoes. Now I know it’s not a traditional “musical” by any standards, but for me, it qualifies in some measure, if nothing else than for its extended ballet sequence. An astounding cinematic masterpiece of a sequence that was basically directly an influence on the extended ballet sequence in An American in Paris. I think Gene Kelly himself convinced the studio execs to allow them to include a ballet sequence after showing them The Red Shoes. I think both sequences in each film are tremendous, but I think we need to mention where the inspiration came from, which is The Red Shoes. I don’t even know if I recall seeing The Red Shoes on the “nearlies” list here at WitD, which means no one voted for it! Sigh.

I don’t think there is a single movie lover out there, much less this seven person panel, who doesn’t consider THE RED SHOES a supreme masterpieces of the cinema and one of the greatest of films, but the issue here was whether this fell within the individually set parameters of what a musical is or should be considered.

If I was making a list of the greatest films, this masterpieces would be near the top. But as a definition of a musical, I opted to discount it for right or for wrong.

Yes I understand Sam. This argument gets back to what everyone’s definition is. For some reason, the team generally felt The Red Shoes didn’t qualify, either because it wasn’t a musical, or wasn’t a great example of one. I just happen to feel it does qualify as one, but my definition all along seems to have been more broad perhaps. I was shocked to learn some didn’t even consider A Hard Day’s Night to be a musical, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that people don’t consider TRS to be a musical. For the sake of this argument though, I would like to see someone define “musical”. I’ve seen people call out what isn’t a musical, but not what “IS”. So, what is a musical?

Here’s my stab.

A film that uses music, dance, or song to conceptually further the plot, emotions, character development or general impression of the film when said music, dance or song is performed or perceived to be performed and is considered to be a main crux of the film.

What doesn’t count? Something like 2001: A Space Odyssey, which uses a score tremendously, but the score isn’t “performed”.
What could count? Marx Brothers movies could qualify. But, I personally feel sometimes that their movies succeed in spite of the songs sometimes. Certainly, the comedy is the main crux, not the songs.

“A film that uses music, dance, or song to conceptually further the plot, emotions, character development or general impression of the film when said music, dance or song is performed or perceived to be performed and is considered to be a main crux of the film.”

I would agree on that JON. However, then, with this definition a film like A HARD DAYS NIGHT does not qualify at all as the music does not futher or enhance the plot. For what it’s worth, and this is part of my definition, the music must be a part of the dialoque, or at least hint at a further of where the dioloque will take us. The music is interwoven into the plot as part of the plot. Playing CAN’T BUY ME LOVE in the background of the RUNNING, JUMPING sequence or having the title song play behind the boys as they flee from adoring girl fans is not a musical. Look at SINGIN IN THE RAIN as the best example… When Gene Kelly says good night to Debbie Reynolds and fans off the cab so he can stamp through the puddles, his singing of the title song is an evocation of the newfound love he has just discovered in the girl of his dreams. he’s vocalizing his thinking and feelings in song and that becomes a part of the plot and the dialoque. I can buy putting OPERA in the count as most of the time the music and lyrics ARE the dialogue, but in a case like a HARD DAYS NIGHT, I just cannot see it the same.

THE RED SHOES, if we go by your definition or mone, is most ABSOLUTELY a MUSICAL…

And one of the best me thinks…

For the life of me though I cannot remember where it placed on my ballot…

“A film that uses music, dance, or song to conceptually further the plot, emotions, character development or general impression of the film when said music, dance or song is performed or perceived to be performed and is considered to be a main crux of the film.”

Ah Dennis I love it! Thanks for engaging on this. I must elaborate. My definition does include room for AHDN. Why? Not because the music furthers the plot, emotions, or character development, but it does further the “general impression of the film” because the music is performed and it is basically the main crux of the film. That is how it works for me. Conceptually, the film is about the performances and intermingling of the songs and they form the general impression of the film. I specifically left this in my definition of musicals specifically for films like this that are not traditional.

Dennis, your inclusion into the definition of the “dialogue” piece is fascinating, although I wonder if it limits things. How do we account for the musical numbers then in say 42nd St., Footlight Parade, or Gold Diggers? They’re not really replacing any dialogue, right? They’re just inserted for entertainment value in my opinion, with minimal effects on plot, characterization.

Jon, you’re right that American marks the beginning of Kelly’s megalomaniacal and hopeless obsession with topping Powell, and I’ll say that The Red Shoes tops every film that has appeared and will appear on this countdown as a motion picture — but no one sings in it, right? I suppose it’s “nearly” a musical, but it loses no honor by its absence from the countdown.

No one sings, true, but there is quite a bit of dance and music though. This all gets back to what is a musical. I have not seen anyone attempt to explain how they defined it for themselves. I personally include it in my own top 50. I don’t think it’s a better musical than all those on the countdown, and it’s certainly a better film than a musical. Still….I think it could qualify and does for me.

Since when do you have to sing in a film for a film to be a musical? If the music is part of the plot then it is definately a musical. If we we were to see a production of the NUTCRACKER or SWAN LAKE they would be called a musical and yet nobody sings a fucking word in either. No no, they’re musicals plain and simple. The RED SHOES is a musical and one of the finest ever made…

Looking ahead to the Top Ten Musicals as they will unfold in the coming days, I’ll say at least six match THE RED SHOES in greatless.

I agree with you that it’s nearly a musical, and I nearly opted to vote for it. For whatever it is worth very few on lists of teh greatest musicals consider THE RED SHOES as part of that genre. That doesn’t mean a thing of course, especially as our group voted for several operas that made the cut, but it shows that there isn’t a strong concensus.

@ Sam, yes you’re right, that The Red Shoes isn’t normally to be found on such lists, ones that I’ve found anyway. My question still comes back to, why not? I think it is a Musical, because the dance and the music play such an important role in the film and it could be said that “The Red Shoes Ballet” sequence is the single greatest “musical number” in the history of cinema. If that doesn’t qualify it, I’m not sure what else would. Don’t get me wrong (and I don’t want to beat a dead horse), I understand that this is the way things have been regarding the standing of The Red Shoes, I just haven’t heard anything here or anywhere for that matter that would preclude the film from being considered a Musical.

Dennis says: “If we we were to see a production of the NUTCRACKER or SWAN LAKE they would be called a musical and yet nobody sings a fucking word in either.” Not by me, friend, or else we better set a standard. Is any movie in which people dance for any period of time a musical? Is any film in which the action is more or less choreographed to an original score a musical? Hell, Chaplin sings in Modern Times, but does that make his film a musical? If you can question whether backstagers are musicals, I can certainly question whether ballets are. But this is more devil’s advocacy than anything I mean to fight over. Once more, my regard for The Red Shoes is vast, but it’s not a musical for me. But if anyone wants to call it greatest of all musicals, then hear, hear!

@ Samuel, no of course not every film that contains a dance or song is a musical, but is the dance or singing the main focus of a film? I think this argument can be made for The Red Shoes, but of course not Chaplin. Let me just clarify, I’m not saying backstagers are not musicals. I was questioning Dennis’ definition and using them as an example against using the “music as dialogue or plot” as the definition. I of course consider backstagers musicals and fine ones at that. But also what about Astaire and Rogers, who were known for their dancing? They have a few songs that were sung, but mostly had dances and they’re musicals and no one argues the point.

@ Samuel- Oh and if you have the inclination, I would like to hear why ballets can’t be musicals. If we included operas, then why not ballets? I’m honestly curious as to why Dennis and I are the only ones who seem to feel they qualify.

Jon, I may just be literal-minded but I assume the word “musical” we use to define a cinema genre is a noun and not an adjective, an abbreviation of “musical comedy,” which is the middle ground between spoken theater and opera — though I concede the eligibility of opera films for this countdown. I guess my stubbornness on this point brings me face-to-face with something I wrote a few weeks ago about how the dancers (Astaire and Kelly) are probably the definitive musical film performers and what that means for the relevance of musical performance in appraising these films. Yet those two dancers did sing in just about all their musical films (Did Kelly in Invitation to the Dance? I don’t recall.) It just strikes me that the musical is the genre where they say it with songs, where people so notoriously “burst into song,” except in the backstagers. If “musical” is an adjective for the majority here, signifying any film in which spoken dialogue isn’t the principal medium of communication and the musical score takes precedent, then I see no need to dispute the point any further — but I’d still wonder why such a thoroughly scored and timed (if not choreographed) film like Modern Times wouldn’t then be a “musical.” And Fantasia would be an even more obvious candidate for inclusion here — and pretty high up the chart.

“A film that uses music, dance, or song to conceptually further the plot, emotions, character development or general impression of the film when said music, dance or song is performed or perceived to be performed and is considered to be a main crux of the film.”

Samuel thanks for elaborating and for expounding on your thoughts. My definition I put above. Under my interpretation, Fantasia is a musical and a great one at that. Placing at about #30 on my own list, because the music and “choreography” are perceived to be performed for the audience and it is the main crux of the film. I think your question of Modern Times leaves me with thinking that it doesn’t qualify, because the music is not perceived to be performed for the audience. It’s truly a score, and not the main point of the film, as is something like 2001, which has a tremendous score, but it isn’t performed, and therefore isn’t a musical. I however include films like Amadeus and Coal Miner’s Daughter under my own definition. I conclude that my definition appears more broad than other’s. I certainly have most traditional “musicals” on my list, but have a wider range of things, including Yellow Submarine and other inclusions like I mentioned.

Jon, that’s a plausible definition and the performative element impressses me as the decisive one. The way it boils down, what I’ve been talking about — the Broadway-derived genre — is a subcategory of what you’re talking about. I’ve only advanced Modern Times as a provocation, but I do think it comes closer to being a musical, especially under the broader definition, than people usually allow. Fields must have sensed it when he called Chaplin a “goddamned ballet dancer.”

“I’ve only advanced Modern Times as a provocation, but I do think it comes closer to being a musical, especially under the broader definition, than people usually allow. Fields must have sensed it when he called Chaplin a “goddamned ballet dancer.””

Well played Samuel. I must admit you’ve debated me into a corner on that one and I will relent at this point and hold off any more judgement on Modern Times until I see it again under this pretense. I appreciated the debate with you!

Thanks Jon, I’m glad I opened up a new angle to look at the film. I always seem to have history in mind when I watch films – I’m a “film for film” kind of guy, but that’s sort of an exception, I’m always fascinated by the historical/cultural context. Sometimes I think I read too much into a movie or cinematic era, but hopefully this was a judicious assessment.

The young waifish Leslie Caron, the lush Technicolor, the Gershwin tunes, the stunning cinematography by John Alton, the quirky Oscar Levant and the great, great Gene Kelly , this sumptuous musical has it all. The post World War II backstory only makes the film more poignant. True Kelly’s artist is not much of a bohemian but that’s a minor point. Kelly was at the pinnacle of his career riding a wave of creative energy that would have an orgasmic burst the following year with “Singin in the Rain.” Very nicely done, Joel.

Thanks John. I’ve addressed some of the other aspects, but as for Levant I find him amusing in some of the scenes (I especially like when he’s spilling coffee on himself and drinking his cigarette while the two lovers prattle on about their – unbeknownst to each other – mutual girlfriend) but the multiple-Oscar sequence strikes me as kind of weird, though I guess that’s the point!

I’d have probably gone with a PLACE IN THE SUN. However this is based solely by what I know about history. We all know now that Kelly’s masterpiece SINGIN IN THE RAIN comes in 1952 so why award AMERICAN the best film when we could easily put SINGIN in the top slot the next year? I’m sure if I was a member back in 1951 I could have been seduced by AMERICAN IN PARIS. But not totally. A PLACE IN THE SUN is so devastatingly unfogettable I’d have had to put it on the top slot…

Dennis, it is tough to juggle alternative Oscars. For 1951 I’d go with Streetcar out of what was nominated while truly preferring Ace in the Hole. But if you make Kelly wait until the next year (presuming you still intend to honor Minnelli for 1958), it might be a slam-dunk head-to-head between Singin and The Greatest Show on Earth, there’d still be High Noon to reckon with. For me that’d be one tough choice.

Very comprehensive and incisive coverage here, Joel. I liked very much your setting the historical context. In this light, my enjoyment of An American in Paris has to do largely with Kelly’s unaffectedly cherishing the recouperative powers of Paris as a place of joyous creativity. His shallow painting output only enhances the charm. His dancing takes us further into the point.

Thanks to everyone for the kind words. I’m obviously making it a bit late to the thread, so I won’t respond to each in turn but add a few thoughts to the discussion:

I can see where the thoughts of sexism come on Milo but to me it’s more of a general selfishness – Caron has it in a way too, though she’s more torn about loyalty. Both the characters are a bit egotistically in their feelings toward one another, and Kelly in particular is pretty callous at certain points – I felt kind of sorry for Milo throughout though it was plain as day what she was getting herself into.

As for the ballet, I agree that it is NOT seamlessly tied into the rest of the story, and that in a sense it isn’t a climax (in fact it was meant to come in halfway through, like the Red Shoes number, but they moved it), which makes the abrupt ending all the more surprising. And it does risk seeming a bit too stiff with its ambitions, but for me the boldness of it makes the trade-off worthwhile. That’s another reason I find American a transitional musical – you can see the seeds of later stiffness that would characterize a lot of “serious” “ambitious” musicals (and much of the stuff with Levant & the other guy leaves me a bit cold, seems like artificial playacting) but there’s still a freshness and energy to it which speaks to the best of the tradition up to then. I think with Kelly onscreen, especially at its prime, his kinetic energy is bound to overcome any stiffness in the mise-en-scene or screenplay.

Dee Dee, thanks for mentioning Alton, since he was credited separately I missed giving him his due above. He’s been added in.

And Marilyn, you’re in Paris? What a coincidence and damn, you’re lucky… Enjoy!

Thanks Frank. There is something irresistable about Caron though normally I wouldn’t see her as my “type” (a highly silly thing to say, as if I had my pick of movie stars haha). I feel like I haven’t seen a lot of later films with her – not even Gigi. Dennis’ comment makes me wonder if she lost some of the spunk and spark she shows here, almost inadvertently (or so it seems).

Joel, a fantastic piece of writing. You make so many original and insightful observations about this movie and all its individual components–the history, the people involved, the artistry–that I couldn’t possibly comment on them individually in a reply of reasonable length. But everything you said about it was carefully observed and thought out and beautifully and clearly articulated. I admired your reply to Dennis about the nature of musical films in general and absolutely agree. If you love musicals, those are the reasons.

Joel, your historicization of American is eye-opening and invites comparisons between this film and the romping philistinism of Funny Face, the next staging of Gershwiniana in Paris. If American is a “postwar” musical, Funny Face is arguably a Cold War musical, though obviously less overtly one than that year’s other Astaire vehicle, Silk Stockings. Both Astaire films trumpet the triumph of the American bourgeois tourist/colonist as opposed to Kelly’s aspiring soldier-turned-artist, who might look like a mere beatnik had he wandered into either of the 1957 films. Politics aside, I like Funny Face better than American in Paris, but I these thoughts certainly make the Minnelli more likable than I had thought.

Interesting reading, Samuel – I reviewed Funny Face a while back and also saw some definite connections to the zeitgeist. In a way, and now this is an odd comparison, but I don’t really mean it as a comparison rather a clarification, the film’s cultural outlook is sort of like Forrest Gump’s – just as that film takes the 60s – 70s and revels in all the nostalgia of those eras while also somewhat pompously putting them down, so Funny Face gleefully takes in its own time – the late 50s – and has fun both being au courant and being a bit snide about it all, from the bohemians to the advertising. Yet it’s so alive with a fresh spirit (something I’d refer to as a “time capsule” rather than “dated”) that I’m not sure I even noticed how down all these contemporary phenomena it is until everyone pointed it out on these boards. Sort of gets to have its cake and eat it too, again like Gump where you’re encouraged to laugh at the hippies while turning up the soundtrack and bobbing your head.

“First of all, this isn’t just an American in Paris, it’s an American Paris – not a City of Lights that is or ever was, but rather a Paris dreamed of across miles and miles of sea and continent, far away in Hollywood. That’s an important point. This Paris is full of authentic touches (productions of the time attempted to reproduce specific areas on soundstages) and cultural references, but it’s also purposefully artificial. Likewise, Jerry is more an idea of a painter than an actual painter – we only glimpse his canvases, and his patter consists of the cliches of bohemian artist life (though Kelly’s a rather clean-cut bohemian) rather than technical insight or the passion of vision.”

Talk about buffo openings, this is absolutely stunning. But then so is this entire review which I think just about everyone on this thread might agree is one of the greatest essays you have written online. Is this patronizing by a king of hyperbole? Perhaps in part. But the greater part recognizes sublime pose in the service of the matter at hand – the musical countdown. We can never and will never compile a list of what we think are the best reviews in this 75 strong countdown, that would be insulting and artistic blasphemy. I would oppose it myself. But in the gun-to-your head scenario I would rate this among the Top Five; I haven’t even pondered what the other four would be. Point is, you have approached this film from a unique perspective right from the start, and have all but hypnotized your readers to go to their shelves right, now, to put the DVD of this film into their players, and to reserve two hours plus for cinematic magic. Gershwin, Kelly, Caron will forever be bonded by this surprise winner of the est Picture Oscar, a choice that decades later doesn’t seem so bad after all. I know you were disappointed that you couldn’t get hold of the DVD late last night, and you had to “compromise” your intended presentation.

You over-the-top merchants of sugary cinema finally wore me down today lol. I got both Swing Time and Dames from the library as I begin to seriously investigate this whole movement being harped upon incessantly (in these parts) called musicals. My weekly diary reports to Sam will see if this hopey changey stuff works out for me…

Hmmm, those ones probably won’t win you over though – Dames is a toned-down disappointment after the wonders of .the ’33 three (I mean, we’ve gone from the bathing beauties of Footlight to a bunch of buttoned-up laundrywomen) and Swing Time, which I do like a lot, is a bit heavy on the banter for those who don’t cotton to it (it’s an element of Astaire-Rogers pictures I enjoy, but not really the main attraciton) obviously. Plus Stevens has an odd style to his films which I’ve never really seen discussed – his pacing and match-cutting are off, almost certainly intentionally in an effort to catch more of an uneven, raw “natural” feel which often works but can also be offputting if you’re approaching the film from a skeptical pov. Then again, maybe you’d find this style preferable to the slick sheen of a Sandrich. At any rate, I’ll be very intrigued by your reports – send them me too! I enjoyed the Lyndon reevaluation.

Out of curiosity, what’s your take on Singin’ in the Rain? I feel like it’s a musical even musical-haters can love, if nothing else because the comedy’s so good.

Well those are just the first two of many I plan on watching Joel. There were a bunch of other musicals that made this countdown, that I bypassed at the library today. I guess I wanted to start with two from the 30’s for whatever reason. Remember all my reports will be chronicled in Sam’s Monday Morning Diary where I give ratings for the week’s films I have viewed.

Singin In The Rain is a very good film. Probably ****1/2 for me. If I had to pick a favorite musical ever it would most likely be Golddiggers Of 1933.

Yeah, I’m going to try to pick a #1 musical to write an essay for on Dancing Image, as a response to the countdown as I did with the animation & horror ones last year. But I’m having a tough time choosing. Gold Diggers is up there, but I’ve already covered it. 42nd St is too, but obviously that’s been done here. Singin’ in the Rain I’ve also already written about, though that would probably be my #1. I’d say that leaves 3 or 4 contenders: Wizard of Oz (which I might save for another occasion, as I’ve always wanted to do a piece on it called “The Dark Side of Oz,” or perhaps even “Dark Side of the Rainbow” though don’t worry it will not have too much to do with that Pink Floyd exercise which I think you’re on record as hating!), Footlight Parade, and then a couple left-fielders: Jammin’ the Blues, which Tony introduced me to via this site and has since become an absolute gem though it would not make most peoples’ qualifications of musical being a short subject with no story, only performance, and perhaps a Gondry video like Hyperballad which certainly stretches the definition to breaking point.

Perhaps, imitating this countdown’s form of multiple writers, I’ll do multiple short pieces in one, and cover all of these. Not a bad idea.

And, by the way, before I do my #1 musical I’m going to step back in time and do what I should have done earlier, had I not been taking a break from the blogosphere at the time – respond to your countdown with a #1 noir. I’m already pretty sure what it will be, though I have to watch it again before deciding for sure.

Joel, you are certainly on a roll this week with this piece on top of your 42nd Street review. I love both Kelly and Caron in this and appreciate your description of how Caron carries the legacy of the war in this – also enjoyed Samuel’s comparison with ‘Funny Face’, as I’d been thinking about this myself and failing to come to many conclusions.

I was interested to see that a commenter at the imdb says the plot of ‘An American in Paris’ was patterned after that of ‘Pal Joey’, after Gene Kelly starred in that show on Broadway. The love triangle with the rich woman bankrolling the (anti) hero’s dream while he really loves a poorer/younger woman does seem to correspond, but I think Kelly’s character seems far more likeable than Joey, probably because he pours a lot of his own personality into the role.

Wow, I am very flattered by all the praise and a bit ashamed that I didn’t take the time to respond to each & every comment – I didn’t expect the thread to develop this extensively (did Sam send out a pick-up-his-spirits email? haha, just kidding). Just wanted to thank everyone for their compliments, and I’m also enjoying the insight everyone is bringing to the table.

As Sam suggests, I was disappointed with the circumstances of writing this, as I had hoping to have a DVD onhand for screen-caps and special features (which fell through), and was thinking of doing a comparison between images and the ballet and the painters borrowed from (a subject, ironically, that I ended up completely avoiding). I didn’t think this one necessarily came up to snuff, but I’m pleased that others differ – sometimes when you just write it out without necessarily expecting to impress, it can come out better I guess. Anyway the warm responses make for a nice relief from the snark of HuffPoers (don’t ask).

It was nice to write about/watch this movie too, as I feel like it’s one of the earliest classic films I ever saw but I hadn’t watched it for at least three years, and many more before that. I own a VHS from ’97, so I envy Dennis with his bluray, but the experience still came across. A nice blast from the past.

[…] Tootie’s fears break out again in the great scene near the end of the movie where she rushes weeping out into the garden and starts to knock down and behead the amazing snow people that the family has built. The father watches through the window and takes the decision that they must stay in St Louis after all. This whole scene really crystallises both the apparent perfection of what the family has built together and the threat that it will all be destroyed. It isn’t actually the last scene, but, in the way it dramatises what has been lying under the surface through most of the film, has something in common with the powerful Minnelli final scenes that Joel Bocko discussed in his great piece on An American in Paris. […]

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Wonders in the Dark is a blog dedicated to the arts, especially film, theatre and music. An open forum is highly encouraged, as the site proctors are usually ready and able to engage with ongoing conversation.